


ordinary love

by juicyjunhui



Category: VIXX
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe - Domestic, Angst, Domestic, Established Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Heartbreak, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, M/M, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-09
Updated: 2018-08-09
Packaged: 2019-06-24 14:41:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15632766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/juicyjunhui/pseuds/juicyjunhui
Summary: Hakyeon wanted to go where it glows, Taekwoon was the sun.It was about that ordinary love that ran bone deep. Until the ice cracked.





	ordinary love

It was all the motions of ordinary love. 

 

Taekwoon would sit on the bed as the sun poured through the curtains early in the morning, watching Hakyeon put on his makeup. Seeing him squint in vain would always bring a small chuckle to lips, because no matter how often Taekwoon would assure his boyfriend that his eyeshadow was beautifully blended, his eyeliner absolutely perfect, like him, Hakyeon would never believe it - or at least not so early in the morning when he would sit at his vanity table half asleep. 

 

It was these holy privileges, tracing outlines of his eyes while they were wide, sometimes Hakyeon would ask for a small glass of wine, as if the act of getting ready were dress rehearsals. Taekwoon would watch, and Hakyeon’s eyes wouldn’t move, Taekwoon would never move his from Hakyeon’s. 

 

It was all the motions of ordinary love. 

 

It feels almost profound, when Taekwoon would watch Hakyeon softly pitter patter out of the bathroom, towel slung too low on his narrow hips, small drops of water leaking absolutely everywhere, a fresh smile too content to care for watchful eyes. It was when Taekwoon rests his hand on Hakyeon’s body, flat, admiring the recognition when Hakyeon moved his hip and shifted position - when the pair said nothing out loud, a silent promise of love, a wordless vow, that’s when it feels the most profound. 

 

When the lights were staring at the younger, a hazy atmosphere engulfing the room, Taekwoon would watch his lover. It was always the slowest of days that somehow never seem to go. Hakyeon would knot his legs atop the armchair at forty-five degrees, reading, letting out an exasperated gasp when the climax of the story hit. He’s committed it to memory - he remembers it so well, watching Hakyeon shifting his weight, turning the page, he can see it all there. Taekwoon would smile, a cheeky grin, a certain notion that would make his heart flutter. He supposed this is what made the living room play its role - they lived here. 

 

It was all the motions of ordinary love. 

 

Taekwoon would sit at the dining room table, watching Hakyeon do the dishes, feeling a subtle romance build up: it goes on and on and on. He would offer only for Hakyeon to giggle and push him away, instead making him a hot drink so the younger could finish the housework in peace. They would go about their after dinner ritual in silence, the soft sipping of a cup, a subtle splash of soapy water illuminating the room, this was what love was all about. 

 

There are moments here, only belonging to the pair, tiny dots on an endless timeline, that lived there, in the kitchen by the dining table. It was the room where they would eat in silence, maybe squeezing in light small talk about their day, letting out breathy chuckles behind tall glasses of water. It was the room where they would wrap themselves around eachother, limbs somehow knotting as they squeezed themselves as close to eachother as they could given the space. Taekwoon would sling his arm around Hakyeon’s waist, peering with his watchful eyes as Hakyeon hummed slightly, a mellowness filling the room as he did the budget for the month. It was the dining room where the couple would talk, late at night, the room pitch black safe of a few candles, around a wine glass, about their dreams. It was like a place without time, a look through history in these moments. Taekwoon would listen, his ears intently open, narrow eyes looking: watching. It was like this. 

 

_ I want to go where it’s frozen, a place where the highways don't reach. I want to go where it glows, a place where spaces are infinite. I want to go where it glows, where time is irrelevant and I don't feel the hours pass by. I'll be happy there.  _

 

It was with these words Taekwoon would sigh. He’ll be happy there too, with Hakyeon, his soulmate, his lover, his perfect other half. When Taekwoon couldn't gather the words to reply, searching for them as if they were swimming around the hazey air around him, he watched Hakyeon carefully place his glass down, eyeing his lovers uncomfortable pose in profile. 

Hakyeon just wanted to go where it glows, and that was right with Taekwoon: for Taekwoon was a man with subtle glowing skin, light hair that would blind you if the sun caught it right, and a smile that could light up the world - his eyes captured the stars, Hakyeon found himself stargazing too often. 

 

It was all the motions of ordinary love, wasn't it? 

 

It wasn't until the ice started to crack, Hakyeon’s foot falling through, trapped, staying there, unable to move, that the demeanour of this ordinary love starting to fade. 

 

Hakyeon wanted to go where it glows, but day by day that glowing aura faded until barely the dewiness of Taekwoon's skin would catch the light, the sparkles in his eyes fading until his already dark iris’ looked like blown, stark black pupils. 

 

Hakyeon would wake up before Taekwoon now, just before the sun peeked and swept through the thin curtains and into the room. He would note the peacefulness of not being stared at as if he was a caged animal, whether it was with admiring eyes or otherwise. But it was when those moments replayed, when Taekwoon is suddenly there and he won’t go away, was it true? Hakyeon found it weird how these memories turned their spaces into something that wasn’t just blueprints and walls, but rather to a place he lived. He would continue drawing outlines, with his eyes wide, hoping it would all go away, the memories of Taekwoon: it did nothing but make his eyeliner pencil snap in anxiety as he drew around his eyes. Perhaps, that was too much to ask? 

 

Hakyeon would have to clean the black smudge around his eyes, and hope his eyeliner would make the dark stain less prominent. 

 

The eldest put the door ajar as he walked in from work, a symbolic cactus potted neatly on the dining table, a contrasting note when compared to the surrounding bunches of flaxes and forget-me-nots. It was then he met the watchful eye of his lover, his hero, his perfect other half, and Taekwoon’s piercing gaze slashed right through his skin, breaking his bones in time as Taekwoon broke the vase holding the accessories. 

 

The younger knew he knocked the table over, he watched the vase break, and if the situation was different he supposed he would try and repair it every single stupid day. When Taekwoon came to his senses, watching his lover cower in the corner, eyes wide but not in the way he's used to - he tried to remember the blueprints of the house, where he could run and hide for a while, somewhere he wouldn’t be able to see. And so, he fled to the white tiles of the bathroom, leaving the fragments a mess on the floor. 

 

Hakyeon ended up fixing it, the cracks still showing no matter how well he assembles it. He tries to fix it every single stupid day, wondering where he went wrong.

 

The coffeemaker hisses, the steam a crescendo, the radio hums - neither uttered a word. Before, the silence would be somewhat a comfort, one of those holy privileges for Taekwoon to watch Hakyeon, watch him be the perfect man he was; Hakyeon would comfortably go about his housework duties letting the romantic energy vibe off him. Now, the tension was almost deathly, Hakyeon too scared to do something out of place or routine. Normal mornings now were about setting the butter knife down, and forgetting where he left it (and worrying where it had gone).  

 

There was no more lingering touches when he came out of the shower, something is missing now, that’s when it came back to him - he didn’t want to touch him. 

 

Was this the motions of ordinary love? 

 

When Taekwoon came home from work one day, knives behind his eyes, lips sucked in - Hakyeon knew that it was today. 

 

He wanted to go where it glows, somewhere he would be happy. 

 

Taekwoon didn’t glow anymore, and the deep sated love he used to feel in the pit of stomach, a love bone deep, a love that used to stop time and make him live in the moment: extinct. 

 

A loose tie around his neck, sleeves rolled up, a sign of defrazzlement; the younger sat down at the dining table heavily as if to purposely knock the sigh that snuck out of his mouth. Languid words came out, and Hakyeon did nothing. It was happening. Taekwoon found someone else, someone else he could love. 

 

This wasn’t ordinary love. 

 

When his lover told him he was moving out tomorrow after work, that he was never to return here as what Hakyeon wanted him to, that Hakyeon was too comfortable, the elder has to quickly shield himself from the blow he almost felt in his gut. 

 

The blood Hakyeon had shed the last month or so was rare and sweet like cherry wine, he found himself walking on a wire everytime. When Hakyeon tried curling into his lover, he was only given an annoyed huff in return, the shifting of position, a plea of “I don't want you” left unspoken in the air but shown through the narrowing of eyes. 

 

Albeit, it was only unspoken until the morning when Hakyeon tried to work his usual devilish charms but to no avail. Was he unworthy? Was he really that unloveable? What happened to domestic bliss, the watching, the cooing,  _ the loving?  _

 

Hakyeon would bleed, he would plead, beg, throwing words at Taekwoon to get him to stay, to love him again.  _ Doesn’t it feel wasteful to you, to throw away all the time we spent perfecting our love in close quarters and confines?  _ He was terrified that it didn't feel painful to him just yet (at least, not in his head, but then a familiar hand pulled strands of hair, and as if on queue a palm connected his face). Somewhere, the radio is playing in the living room, and it says there is a lack of funds to fix a bridge after a fire - wasn’t that just ironic. 

 

Taekwoon could only roll his eyes in response -  no, it wasn’t wasteful. For the man had loved Hakyeon at one point, but things get old fast, the mood shifts too quickly, everything was too comfortable. Taekwoon was a storm that needed to keep moving; and he found someone better to roll with. He could only hope Hakyeon would stop being so  _ attached  _ soon. 

 

Nothing about the motions of this unrequited love was ordinary for Hakyeon, no matter what he did. 

 

The door slams, the breeze from the window hisses, Hakyeon can hear the echo of his sobs shroud around him. He laid everything out on the carpet: books, kitchen things, objects with no specific purpose or none, arranging them sideways in a grid on the floor there unmoored. 

 

Out of context and then considered it; the whole picture then everything individually, humming along at the deadest pace imaginable, hoping it would calm down his melancholy hysteria - he wondered if these items (as well as him)  meant anything still, if they ever did. 

 

It was all laid there, from the dining room they loved so much (the room where loved bloosomed), the hallway, basement, kitchen, the room they called the office but never used, even the bathroom, before ending at the bedroom (the room where their blossoming love was always shown, the room of forbidden kisses, the watching, the cooing). Hakyeon moved everything from the floor to the table in the dining room, one that wasn’t so meaningful now, and placed everything carefully without reason or at least one he understood or describe.  

 

He stepped back and realised what he had made. 

 

Keepsakes. Pictures. Letters. 

 

A memorial. 

 

Taekwoon left the house not too long ago. He left fragments of the vase he broke, and parts of Hakyeon that would never be fixed and glued together no matter how hard he would try to fix himself every single  _ stupid  _ day. When he left, he took all that he owned, but the memories echo. 

 

The images he used to imagine as he sat, and read, contently aware of that loving stare from the otherside of the room, now brutally replaced with a constant film of memories. 

 

Hakyeon lives alone now. 

 

Save for the echoes. 

 

He lives alone now. 

 

_ Save for the echoes.  _

 

Nowhere would glow for him like it did with Taekwoon.

  
  
  
  


  
  


**Author's Note:**

> So this is my first time publishing something sfw, please let me know what you think!!
> 
> I've also tried a different writing style. I'm really liking how this turned out so maybe more angst in the future huh


End file.
